AN: Oh look, an update! Unbelievable, I know. . I'm sorry, dear anon reviewer, but I'm not dead yet and neither is this story. In fact, reviews - yes, even nasty anonymous reviews - always motivate me to write faster, because it shows me people still didn't forget about it. Same goes for favs and followers. As long as there is a single person out there interested to read about Air and Zev, I will continue to write. But, I have some health issues, so please have patience with me. I apologize if I haven't replied to your reviews and PMs yet - mea culpa, I'll try to mend my ways. But please know that it's always appreciated. :)

I want to thank to Dragons for kind recommendation of Failed to Fail on TV Tropes. And a huge, special thanks to my wonderful friend and beta ShebasDawn, who helped me with this chapter, even despite a shiny new DAI just waiting to be played.

The Lights in the Shadow

The four men knelt on the prison floor, writhing against their bounds and whimpering like scared dogs. They looked almost pitiful. According to his information, they were in their mid-thirties - the oldest one was thirty-six – but nobody would give them less than fifty. Their haggard faces were full of pustules, mouths a cemetery of rotting teeth, and their overweight bodies shook violently. Zevran's lips curled in disgust. No wonder the Templars kicked them out.

One of them had left Ferelden long ago; Shwara said finding him was his business now. Of the four remaining, only one was still a Templar, merely because Knight Commander Harrith was a second cousin of the man's mother, but even he wasn't performing his duties. Too paranoid and disoriented to be allowed to show himself in public, he was hidden in the barracks like an unpleasant, puss-filled boil on Harrith's posterior. Faren reported that when he came with the arrest order, the Knight Commander had actually been relieved and had gladly handed over his charge.

The other three were not as far gone yet – they had the nerve to join the army with mercenaries working for Bann Devith of White River.

Zevran's lips curled in disgust. He beckoned to the guards, who removed the blindfolds and cloths in the men's mouth.

The men blinked and gasped and tentatively glanced around them.

"Let me go!" one of them whined. "I didn't do anything! You have no right to hold me here! When my father finds out-"

"Quiet!" Zevran ordered. "If you speak out of order again, I will have your tongue cut out." He said it in a calm, emotionless voice that would make his former Master proud... but what would Air think of him after this? He forced himself not to glance across his shoulder to check Airam's expression, and focused on his task again. "Which one is that?" he asked the guard captain.

"Padden, son of Bann Perrin, ser. He left the Order voluntarily, after the relationship between his family and the Chantry became tense when proof was delivered to the Chantry board that he was involved in obscene and vulgar matters."

"I see. Like father like son, it seems." Zevran looked down at the man. "Let me tell you this, Padden: even if your father was the Head of the House of Crows and your mother the Divine herself, it wouldn't help you here. Your fate depends solely on me. Behave, and I may yet grant you a quick death... relatively speaking, of course. Anger me, and you will suffer for a very long time. Do you understand?"

"But we're innocent!" another of the four complained. "I don't know what you think we have done, but I'm telling you, you got the wrong men!"

"Kaleb, the so -" the guard captain started, when a gush of icy cold wind blew across the cell. The guards exchanged anxious looks. The guard captain coughed. "We apologize, Warden Commander, but we had an agreement you wouldn't interfere-"

Zevran shook his head and the guard captain stopped. He gave the other guards a sign and they retreated to the door. Wise decision – judging by the look on his face, Airam's patience and self-control wouldn't last much more.

"Innocent?" he asked incredulously. "You? You, who were the leader, who spurred the others to – to hurt my family, who beheaded my little sister, and laughed about it? Look at me and say that to my face, if you dare!"

The man looked up. "Ah... I remember you now. You're the kid of those freaks who lived in the forest, right? I should've killed you as well! That was the Grand Cleric's order anyway, wipe out all of you. But the old fool interfered, said we must spare the brats. And then he goes and rats us out! The Grand Cleric should've relieved him of duty long ago. If Tavish was the Knight Commander, you mages wouldn't dare to bare your fangs at your betters. You'd all be nullified, you may bet on that!"

Airam frowned. "Old guy – you mean Greagoir? Greagoir told you to spare me and my sister, against the order of the Grand Cleric?"

"He said you brats weren't apostates of your own will and could still become loyal mages, with the right training. As if mages could ever be anything but demons' spawn! Maybe, if we kept you, you would've turn into a good pet – I remember you showed some talent-" The Templar suddenly stopped, and his body began to shiver.

The room was full of an ominous icy aura emanating from Airam. Shwara said something, apparently trying to calm down his grandson, but it was too late. A white light flashed, blinding them all for a moment. When Zevran opened his eyes again, the cell was full of snow and the ex-Templar was turned into ice. He wasn't just enveloped in a thin crust of ice that would melt down soon. He was ice. Solid, hard, without any hint that the thing used to be a human.

Airam was standing in front of it, the aura gone, his face buried in his hands. Shwara was murmuring something to him, but it didn't seem to have much effect.

The guard captain was first to recover. "We should call for help – Templars could dispel it..."

Zevran turned to the man. "No," he ordered. "You will not leave until further command, and no word of what happened here must leave this cell."

The guard captain frowned. "But we had an agreement-"

"Do as I say or die," Zevran cut in; he was in no mood for these games. "Your choice?"

For one tense moment, he thought he really would have to kill them, but then the guard captain bowed his head. "I understand, ser Arainai."

"Good." He walked over to Airam and Shwara. "You should take him out of here," he said softly. "Leave the rest to me. I'll bring you your answers, I promise."

Shwara shook his head. "He needs you more than me," he said, gently pushing Airam into Zevran's arms. "You're the only one who can calm him now. Go. I'll join you when I end things here – it won't take long."

oOo

"I can't believe I lost control like that," Airam whispered for the hundredth time. "Maker, Zev – why? Why are you still with me? You should run away from me, before I lose it again. Sten was right, I'm dangerous. I should be locked up, or made tranquil-"

They went to the guard captain's office; Zevran didn't want to make Airam walk through half the castle in this condition. For at least half an hour he sat with Airam in his lap, his arms wrapped tight around the mage's trembling body, whispering sweet things into the boy's ear. But it seemed Shwara had overestimated him after all.

He gently grabbed Airam's shoulders and shook him. "Stop this. He got what he deserved, no? That was not murder, that was justice."

"Justice... yes. For years, I've been thinking about this day. What I would do to these men if I had them in my power. It wouldn't be revenge, it would be a just punishment. That's what I always used to tell myself." Airam laughed bitterly. "But this... you don't know this spell, do you, Zev? I bet you've never seen it before. There are very few mages that can cast it. You see, many think it's not worth the time and effort it takes to master it."

"Not worth it? How can the spell that freezes your enemies solid be not worth it?"

"It's not for fighting. In fact, it's forbidden to use it on living beings." Airam got up and paced around the office. "This spell – well, it's a part of the spell, actually – it's purpose is to bring beauty into this world." He stretched his hand, palm up, and closed his eyes in concentration. A moment later, a small icy mist appeared above his palm, whirling, changing, until it turned into a single leaf made of ice. For a moment, it glittered in the light of the torches, perfect and beautiful, but then it melted down in an instant, only a few drops of water dripping from Airam's hand.

"And I fail at it. Every single time." Airam opened his eyes. "This was the spell I asked my Dad to teach me on my eight birthday. He laughed and said I was ten years too early to even think of it. And today, I proved I'm just as immature and not ready as I was then." He turned away from Zevran and hugged himself. "If Dad saw me today, he'd be disappointed with me. I was so blinded by anger and the wish for revenge that I completely lost control. And I wish I could say I didn't know what I was doing, but I did. There is a reason why it's not allowed to use this spell on living beings, you see. It doesn't kill the victim - it makes it suffer. That man isn't dead – not yet. He'll be dying in agony for long hours, maybe days, unable to move, trapped in darkness and silence as his body slowly turns into ice... He can't be saved. The spell can't be reversed, or dispelled; and the ice can't be shattered until it's complete. And I wanted that."

Zevran sighed. "You do not expect me now to be horrified and pity him, yes?" He walked over to Airam and turned him around. "Those humans pigs hurt you and your family, and they will die gruesomely. All of them."

"You don't understand – I don't pity him. Those men poisoned my whole life. In the last ten years, there wasn't a single day I didn't think about them. You think you can hate them more than I do?"

"Then why does it trouble you?" he asked, confused.

"Because I'm tired of it! I'm tired of hate and fear!"

"Fear?"

"Fear, yes. Of losing my sanity. Of doing things that are beyond regret – things that would open the door to demons. You have no idea, Zevran, you can't begin to imagine how hard it was to stay in control. When Jowan escaped, I refused to join the Wardens – I welcomed the idea of being a tranquil."

Good afternoon, my name is Owain, how can I help you? Zevran shuddered as a picture of the man in the Tower, cleaning the store room amidst the bloodied remnants of mages and demons, flashed in his mind. To think that Airam had been so close to become an empty shell like that was more than he could bear. "That is why you should let me do it."

Airam shook his head. "No. They're my responsibility, Zevran. And I will deal with them, in a sane way. They will be judged and publicly executed, and once they hang I can finally forget them. I won't give them or anyone else the satisfaction of saying, 'Look at him, he's blaming the Templars, but he's no better than those lyrium addicts'."

Zevran couldn't help chuckling at that. "Ah, well, I always said you were a crazy kid, no?"

oOo

When they returned to their room they found it already occupied – Erwin was pacing around the room like a trapped wild beast looking for a way to break out, while Alistair and Teagan were guarding the doors.

"Daria is delivering!" Erwin barked at them when they stepped in. "And these fools don't want to let me be with her!"

"You can't be there." Alistair sounded exasperated, as if he was repeating this for the hundredth time. "It would be indecent to see a lady in such condition."

"She's my wife!" Erwin roared. "Do you think I never saw her naked? How do you think that baby happened, eh? Eh?! Do I look like an old prudish, impotent noble who wears his night dress even during sex?!"

Alistair's cheeks turned deep crimson. "I wish you talked more like a prudish noble at least," he muttered.

"Unbelievable! Teagan! What are you doing, man?"

"Guarding the door against a crazed mage," came a dry reply.

"Don't play a fool, I know you know what I mean. This man is soon to be our king, and he's supposed to marry a woman – yes, Your Majesty, a real living, curvaceous woman –" Erwin continued to shout, adding an unnecessary show of said curves, which made Alistair blush even more. "Do you want him to be a virgin when he marries? And let the rumors and barbs about his unsatisfactory performance spread the next morning? Why in the Void didn't you get him laid yet?"

"I – we will have you hanged, if you don't stop," Alistair said, trying to look high and mighty; unfortunately the effect was somewhat diminished by a fierce blush.

Before Erwin could reply, a soft cough from the door interrupted them. "If you are quite done with your childish arguments, perhaps you'd be interested to know you are a father." Wynne crossed her arms. "And it would be good if your children were not orphaned the very day they were born because you insulted the king."

All Erwin's bravado was gone, leaving behind a pale and anxious man. "So it's over? Is – is Daria alright? And the baby?"

Wynne's face softened at that. "Yes, yes. There's no need to worry. They're fine. All three of them." She laughed softly at their bewildered expressions. "You have two beautiful sons, Erwin. If you wish you can see them now, but please be-"

Erwin rushed past her, almost smashing the door off the hinges in the process, and stormed down the corridor calling Daria's name.

"Men. And they call themselves the sterner sex!"

oOo

Zevran sighed as he brushed the snow that dropped from the branches off his head and shoulders. Even covered in snow, this remote corner of the garden was still the one last place where he could hide from the madness in the castle. Truly, he couldn't see what all the fuss was about. Those two little squeaking things didn't even look like humans, with those crumpled faces, huge eyes and funny button-like noses. Wrapped in their duvets, they reminded him of caterpillars that had broken out of cocoons without transforming. They were helpless, weak, desperately dependent on the mercy of others around them. And yet... there was something oddly disarming about them and the way they took for granted that there would always be someone to feed them or comfort them...

I'm getting soft. That was nothing new, by now – but he always thought it was related to Airam. There was no reason why a pair of little pipsqueaks should turn him into a cooing, babbling fool. Just because one of them would be named Airam...

"Zevran." Shwara looked around. "What are you doing, crouching under a tree like a wet mabari?"

"Ah, such harsh words! Allow me to point out, though, that you are crouching here with me. I understand this was inevitable – I am too irresistible, yes? - but now is not the time and place. Though it pains my heart to admit it-"

"I do not want to hear that from the man my grandson calls his boyfriend," Shwara said dryly. "I came here, to thank you for finding those four. I'll always owe you for that. Here." He pulled a small object from his pocket and handed it to Zevran. "That officially makes you a friend of the Suranas."

Zevran looked at the small star-shaped amulet, glittering in the sun. Solid ice. Naturally. He couldn't help chuckling as he put it on. "Should I call you father now?"

"Tch. I said a friend, not a son," Shwara snapped, a slight smile belying his annoyed tone. "Anyway. I'll be leaving again tomorrow so I wanted you to have that. I'll be in Denerim for the Landsmeet. Until then, take care of my cute grandson for me." He turned to leave, but paused for a moment. "Don't tell him I said that," he added.

Zevran laughed. "Don't worry. I don't wish to be frozen in your place." Friend of the Suranas, eh? What would the Chasind Chief say to that?

oOo

"Rise and shine, Zev!"

"No and no. It is still night out there." Zevran pulled the blanket over his head and turned away. "I wish no part in this self-torture anymore. Go without me."

"Awww. You'd let me go all alone? What if something happens to me? What if I get lost?"

"After all the times you went to camp and back? No, I truly do not think that's possible. Besides, you said I am not your bodyguard anymore."

Airam sighed dramatically. "True. I guess I have no choice, then."

That was it? No persuasion, no cheeky comments, no emotional blackmail? Disappointed, he was about to say he was just joking, when he heard Airam open the door.

"Alright, boy. Your turn now. Go get the lazy assassin out of there!"

Zevran's eyes widened in surprise. He frantically tried to pull off the blanket and get out of the bed – too late! A mass of fur and saliva thumped down on the bed and the next moment he was sitting on the floor, still wrapped in the blanket, having his face thoroughly licked, while Airam was crying with laughter.

"Get off me, you brutal bag of fleas!" he commanded; Rask whined but obediently stepped away.

"Don't be mad at him, it's all my fault," Airam said as he reached out his hand to help Zevran up, the smirk on his face belying his repentant tone. "Our morning ritual was getting old; I wanted to spice it up a bit."

"Hmm... I like that idea." Zevran grabbed Airam's hand and pulled him down. "I like that idea much better than trudging all the way to camp again," he whispered to Airam's ear, wrapping his arms around the mage. Maybe he would have succeed with his own version of a spiced up morning, if not for Rask. The frustrating mabari thought this was some new kind of a game. And that he was invited to join.

"I still don't understand why you insist on going to camp every morning," he said when they finally managed to get up and shut Rask out of the room. "Everything is going fine, it is not necessary for you to supervise it in person, no?"

"You don't know?" Airam looked surprised, but he refused to explain. "It's good you're coming with me, then," was all he said.

oOo

The new, 'united' camp was an impressive sight, and it looked better and better each time they visited. To stress that this was the Warden's army, all the tailors in the Redcliffe arldom had received an order to make new tents, all dark blue-grey with the silver Warden crest; the tents of commanders were bigger, with a slightly different crest in gold. They had been working on it day and night with the help of the former elven servants from the human camp – Forbes' genius answer to the threat of riots from the Dalish, who were against the presence of servants, or the servants themselves, who were equally unhappy with the prospect of losing their jobs. The protests of the human nobles were ignored with an explanation that if the future king could live for months in a camp without a servant, so could they.

Not all the tents had been replaced yet; but it already looked good. Organisation and discipline were much better as well – Kardol's influence, mostly. The camp was running like a well-oiled dwarven machine. There had been a few incidents, but they were becoming more and more rare, thanks to swift punishments regardless of race or social status. And, Zevran suspected, also thanks to the example of their much adored Captain General. Maybe that was the reason Airam insisted on coming here every day?

"Which is fine, but you need to know they will behave even when you don't come every day. You need to trust your soldiers, no? You can't hold their hands all the time," he pointed out as they walked through camp, answering the greetings and cheering of the soldiers.

Airam shook his head. "That is not the reason. I do trust them, you know – I come here for myself." He chuckled when he saw Zevran's nonplussed expression. He stopped and gestured towards a group of men, practising team fighting. "Tell me, what do you see when you look at these men?"

"Soldiers. What else should I see?"

"You sound like Eamon," Airam accused. "They're not just soldiers, Zev. First of all, they're people, like you and me."

"Isn't that obvious?" he muttered; being compared to Eamon stung.

"It should be. But when I'm in the castle, studying strategy and tactics, or discussing money and supplies, it's so easy to forget that. To start thinking of them as numbers. You want to win a strategic position? No problem! You sacrifice one hundred here, or you create a trap with two hundred there. If they die, well, that's what they're there for."

"But that is how war is." Zevran shrugged. "You can't win the war without losing anyone. If you want to defeat the Archdemon and darkspawn, and save Ferelden... you will have to be ready to sacrifice lives."

"I know," Airam muttered. "But, I don't want to do it lightly. I don't want to forget that the ends don't justify the means... Otherwise I could easily turn into another Loghain... or one of the Crow Masters. So I go to camp to remind myself they're not just numbers; they're not expendable, and it's my responsibility to keep them alive." He looked away. "I know it's childish, but..."

Zevran gently turned Airam back to face him. "With all the crazy things you do, you call this childish?" he asked incredulously. "You, I will never understand."

oOo

They were ready, Arl Eamon announced pompously that evening in their regular strategy meeting. They could be certain of more than sufficient support in the Landsmeet to take down Loghain. If the Warden agreed, they would send unofficial invitations the next day, with the date a little over three weeks from now; officially, they would announce it only a week before the day - no need to alert Loghain's lackeys too soon. And that meant they should return to Denerim as soon as possible.

"Oh, good. And on our way we can stop at Soldier's Peak to fulfil Duncan's promise to the Drydens," Alistair said casually, shocking everyone into silence.

"What promise?" Airam asked warily. "And who are the Drydens?"

"The Drydens are the descendants of a Warden Commander who lived almost two hundred years ago, in a fortress called Soldier's Peak. It's mostly ruins now, but it used to be grand, built specifically for the Grey Wardens-"

"Do you mean Drydens the Traitors, Alistair?" Arl Eamon frowned. "I advise against doing any business with that family. Warden Dryden tried to cause a civil war in an attempt to overthrow the rightful king, with the help of the Wardens. She failed; her rebellion was suppressed and the Wardens were banished from Ferelden until Cailan allowed them back. In the current situation, having your name linked to such kind of people would be most impolitic."

"Yes uncle, I know, but they were wronged. Besides, Duncan promised to help them, and if he was alright with it, I don't understand why-"

"I don't understand why I never heard of this until now," Airam cut in, in his most authoritative way. Alistair squirmed in his armchair; he wanted to reply, but Airam cut in again. "I want a word with you alone, Alistair, if you don't mind."

Alistair nodded and the two left together, followed by the confused looks of the others, and the thunderous glare of Arl Eamon. The old noble still didn't like how freely Airam talked to Alistair, without sufficient respect for Alistair's royal status, although he knew better by now than to react.

Both Wardens returned a few minutes later. Alistair looked a bit frightened, but his teeth didn't chatter, and there was no water dripping from him, so the discussion couldn't have been that bad. In fact, Airam looked more amused than annoyed.

"We're going to Soldier's Peak," he announced. "However, for this mission the Warden Second - or should I say His Majesty – Alistair is in command. If you have any questions regarding this mission, please address them to him. He assured me we can get to Soldier's Peak without attracting the attention of Arl Howe's men, reclaim the fortress, and be in Denerim by latest two weeks before the Landsmeet." He turned to Arl Eamon. "Will that be enough?"

Arl Eamon looked from Airam to Alistair and back, then bowed. "If that is how His Majesty decided, I can only agree with it," he said dryly. "However, before you leave Warden, there is one more thing that needs to be solved. About those men you arrested and want to execute... I am afraid, there is a... technical problem, so to say. One of them is still a Templar, unfortunately, and he can't be executed without the Chantry's approval. And I am afraid the Chantry insists on having a written opinion on this matter from the head of the Seekers. I talked to Knight Commander Herrith and unfortunately he resolutely refuses to expel said Templar from the Order."

Once again, the room went silent. Only this time, the tension was accompanied by a sudden and significant drop in temperature. They all glared at Arl Eamon, who sat sipping his tea with a mock remorseful expression on his face. Zevran's hands slid involuntarily to his daggers. Perhaps he should visit the Arl in his bedroom later tonight...

"I do not see why that concerns you... your grace," Airam replied and got up from the table. "Those men are mine... my responsibility, I mean. Now, please excuse me." He walked out of the room without a single glance at the Arl. Naturally, Zevran followed – but, to his surprise, so did Leliana. What was that about?

oOo

"Alright, Leli, what is it you need?" Airam asked the moment the door of his room closed behind them. "I'm warning you, it better be damned important. I'm not in a mood to chat right now."

"Then I'll get straight to the point," she said, pulling out a sealed letter from her sleeve. "Here. Read this. I think you will find it both important and interesting, yes?"

Airam's eyes widened as he looked at the seal. "But that's – how would you have this? What does this mean, Leliana?"

"Please. Sit down and read. I promise to answer all your questions after that, but it will be easier if you read that first." She went to the serving table and poured them all a glass of brandy. "I think you will need a drink," she said with a slight smile as she handed it to Airam. The boy glanced at it without interest, then broke the seal.

A moment later, he passed the letter to Zevran, took the glass of brandy and drained it.

Zevran unfolded the letter.

To the Warden Commander of Ferelden, it said.

Based on the decree of Her Holiness, Divine Beatrix III, the Exalted Servant of the Maker, the Seekers of Truth performed an investigation of the Templars and Chantry members involved in the tragic incident that occurred in Ferelden on Guardian 4th, 9:20 which resulted in death of Alim Surana, his wife Siwat Surana neé Leniel and their daughter Mellit, aged 4, for suspicion of abuse of the Templars' authority.

According to the investigation, the five Templars involved: Kaleb, the son of Arl Nerville; Padden, son of Bann Perrin; Jaxon, son of Bann Dolan; Darby Kearney; and Kyle Auteberry, had an order to arrest the suspected apostates. The arrest order was issued by Grand Cleric Elemena in Denerim on Wintermarch 22th 9:20, despite the exception that was granted to Alim Surana's family to abide outside the Tower. At that time, all five Templars had already been investigated for lyrium abuse and various discipline offences.

According to the witnesses, Knight Captain Greagoir gave specific orders to avoid violence as much as possible, and especially forbid its use against the children. However, his attempt to investigate the unsuccessful arrest and demise of Surana's family was stopped by the decision of Grand Cleric Elemena. Neither Her Holiness nor the Seekers of Truth were informed at the time about the incident.

Of the five above mentioned persons, four had left the Order after continuous problems with discipline and lyrium abuse, and they do not fall under the jurisdiction of the Templar Order any more. Jaxon, son of Bann Dolan, is as of now the only remaining Templar, although he is not in the active service anymore due to lyrium addiction; the investigation proved that the only reason he has not been expelled yet is because he receives favoured treatment by his superior. The Seekers of Truth find this situation unacceptable and a disgrace to the Templars' holy duty.

Therefore, we hereby grant permission to execute justice upon Jaxon, son of Bann Dolan, in accordance with the law of Ferelden.

However, at the same time we have to ask that you resist taking any action against Grand Cleric Elemena and Grand Commander Harrith, as the investigation of their actions is still in progress.

A copy of this letter was sent to Her Holiness, Beatrix III, the Exalted Servant of the Maker.

Denerim, Harvestmere 20th, 9:30

Darrel Winston,

High Seeker

Zevran folded the letter again, and drank his brandy as well, regarding the woman that sat across from him, and wondering who she was. Not the ex-bard she pretended to be, that was clear.

"Alright, Leliana," Airam said weakly, pouring himself another glass of brandy. "I think I'm ready for a long, detailed explanation."